Gemini

at night, the two women 
         are at war with each other-

one is steeped in shadows, the moon's lover 
         the other is paled yellow, the sun's bride-

the first loves with a hungry stomach:  
          coarse grain pollen, wild honey & forest rain - 
         
she inserts herself into every page,
          spilling words on her lover's lips, darkest of plum-  

the second walks, a rooted maple tree 
          sturdy of fisted rope, pulling to the safe harbor -

she is fazed by gravity, carved bronze as earth,  
          a train travelling on well-worn tracks, she hushes, hushes--

the flame, growing like a peacock from her head,
          cascading electric shocks, agitated, she calls, calls-- 

the other, face to face in the mirror,
          freckled like seeds of the same fruit-

one tugs at the navel-
          the other is urging the wind to cut her 
                                                                      free-   

Photo by Gabriel Moreno

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - The prompt is about duality (Gemini, twins, entwined Selves) hosted by Karin G. ~  Have a good weekend ~

Impossible yet....

Perhaps the tulips

Are like a puma, silent and starving

Under the snowed-in light-

For tonight the twilight

Is cold, forgetful   

Like my hands, finding things to be loved-

I search for your trail among  

newspaper headlines, cut up like

-well-travelled streets-

under the pillows of hospital beds,

-breathing & opening seeds in confusion-

even in the sonnet of a classic poet-

Alas, you are nowhere to be

I stop looking

& let you come

Unbidden, the liquid measure of you

Impossible

Like beauty of a rose   

Photo credit:   ZOOM

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- Dada Poems with Scissors - 
Words gathered from random poems and newspaper clippings.

Ripe as scarlet

the morning is a faded water-
          color, silent as ivory   

keys,  we swim into    
          until we tasted undercurrents 

ripe as scarlet verses,  sliding
          exquisitely down our bellies-   

the tides peel our skin 
          moist as tenderness-

no word is colorless 
          in your eyes, cadence is you

kissing me slowly, like Sun-
          day morning,  the sweetest candle-

slide your hands beneath me ,  
          liquid is sky,   everything is a seed-

this is how we make 
         our memory

in river’s aria,
         jettisoning into the wild cosmos, the rush 

cradling us - 
        a birthing, or a dying of familiar things -     

but oh, don't let me forget
        this moment -

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub:  Putting synesthesia in Poetry - There is a neurological condition called synesthesia in which the patient confuses sensation. For example, he may taste a fragrance, or hear a flower. Have you ever touched a rainbow or seen a toccata?  In poetry, synesthesia refers specifically to figurative language that includes a mixing of senses.

picture credit:  tumblr.com

Song of parting

May this love neither blind me nor follow me.
And may it never notice me.
May it spare me from being pursued
And from torment.

Nameless Songs:   
-Brazilian poet, Hilda Hilst (1930-2004)

Come closer 
You say
And I do, my face 
breathing in your scent-
Put your arms
around me, You plead 
and I do -   
While hoping against hope -  
on bended knees-  
May this love neither blind me nor follow me.

For I am a wildflower
on your velvet lapel,
born to roam in the forest sky
blue as the sea
I will wilt in your little
crystal vase like a queen bee
without the vicious hive
May your gaze linger far
on tulips blooms, sweet as cherry tree -
And may it never notice me.

As I walk away
Spent from your kisses,
Burning like 
fire on my lips- 
bittersweet as plums.
As I glance away from your nude
desire,  I pray that you forget me quickly
As one tires of a turbulent sea, 
or a long winter storm,  not easily subdued-                             
May it spare me from being pursued

And broken 
Into a silky and fragrant bloom   
Because your love offering
even so pure
and true
will be the death 
of me, crushing my voice underfoot -
Let love pass by in anguished dissent
So I may never suffer from this enchantment-   
And from torment.

Posted for D'verse Poets Pub- Hosted by Samuel Peralta - Your feedback/ critique is appreciated as this is my first time to write in this form.   

Poetry form:  Glosa - This is a poetry form from the late 14th century and was popular in the Spanish court. The introduction, the cabeza, is a quatrain quoting a well-known poem or poet. The second part is the glosa proper, expanding on the theme of the cabeza, consisting of four ten-line stanzas, with the lines of the cabeza used to conclude each stanza. Lines six and nine must rhyme with the borrowed tenth. 

The chase

         I snuff out the candles in our room.
It is the time:  a forest awaits
for a hunt, breathless, under our bare feet.  
         Moonlight blazes above the sky,
         stormy as your eyes.

        In my dream before reality,
I am the hunted wolf  & you, the hunter.
You scent me better than the hounds,
        grounding me, my heart beating
        louder than my legs.

        You take your knife, slicing
me open like an offering, our bread. 
There is the taking & the giving-     
        as I burn, sliding down
        your throat like wine, feral & heady.

        Soon a heart
grows underneath my ribs.   Pulses  
and stretches like branches, into a tree.       
        My eyes hold your whispered awe, 
        tender  as  spring.

        We chase 
again.   But  I  do  not      let        you 
find    me          easily
                                        this       
                                                       time.

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub: OpenLinkNight - Every Tuesday, starting at 3 pm EST. Thanks for the visit ~ 

Picture credit:  tumblr.com